


you're holding me like water in your hands

by SlarStarsFanFics



Series: Everything I see returns to you somehow [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ben Doesn’t Go To The Light (Umbrella Academy), Alternate Universe - No Sparrow Academy (Umbrella Academy), Angst, Being A Ghost Sucks, Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Blood and Injury, Brothers, Childhood Memories, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Luther Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Luther Just Says Shit And Is Surprised When People Take Him Seriously, Luther’s Go A Lot Of Issues, Me Gushing Over The Intimacy Of Hand Holding, No Incest, Post-Season/Series 02, References to ABBA, Siblings, Spoiler Alert! They Get Them, The Fact That’s A Tag Makes Me Really Happy, Was I Channeling My Inner Pretentious Poet For This? Maybe, like same, no beta we die like ben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28423707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlarStarsFanFics/pseuds/SlarStarsFanFics
Summary: “You know, I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” His blasé tone didn’t distract Ben from the words themselves. He stopped in his tracks and immediately put the sleeve back down, turning his full attention to his brother.“Why would you think that?”
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves
Series: Everything I see returns to you somehow [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958440
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	you're holding me like water in your hands

**Author's Note:**

> Not me using song lyrics for titles again. I’m never gonna break this habit. Anyways, Moon Song by Phoebe Bridgers. Also I figured out how to fix my formatting so I hope this looks more aesthetically pleasing or whatever. 
> 
> Oh maybe read the first story in this series first? It adds a lot of context for all this mess

In a different universe, Ben sacrificed his presence in the earthly realm to save his sister. But in this one, Vanya has refused to let Ben leave. _You can go to the light whenever you want, but not when I’ve just re-lived the trauma of losing you the first time._ So she pulled them both out quickly, and events went about the same. He wasn’t corporeal for most of the battle, mostly because of his family's fear that Lila would copy his powers and they all would die a horrible, bloody death. Ben was fine with that.

But once the battle was over and apologies were exchanged between him and Klaus, the itch to speak to his family again became overwhelming. He wanted to ask Allison about his niece and learn more about her life. He wanted to reunite with Five and hug Diego in his own body. He wanted to reassure Vanya that truly _it’s not your fault. You deserve to live, you deserve everything._ And he wanted to talk to Luther.

They used to be close. Nights where The Horror was especially bloodthirsty were spent in Luther’s room. He would sneak him tea and stroke his hair and hold him through the pain. They would read and Luther would let Ben go over his amateur poetry.

“You should be a writer when we’re older.”

They were hidden under the covers with their flashlight reading. Luther looked at him, a bit confused.

“But we’re superheroes.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do other things too.”

“I guess,” Luther’s brow furrowed, “What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna go to college. Five said they learn about tons of stuff there,” He shuffled together with the papers and books and placed them on the ground, “If I go, will you come with me? I don’t want to be alone.”

Luther turned out the flashlight and tossed an arm over his brother, “I’ll go wherever you go.”

Ben hadn’t seen a lot of Luther after his death, but what he did see hurt. A lot. Luther stopped smiling as often and he got colder towards his remaining siblings, even Allison. He still remembered walking back with Klaus after his funeral and spotting Luther passed out in front of his casket, snow peppering his hair and uniform. (Klaus had been too drunk to notice or care.) He ended up sleeping out there and no one had noticed. Then the whole family left. Luther was alone and vulnerable and in pain and he wasn’t safe in that house.

Back then, Ben tried to break off and check on his siblings often. He wouldn’t know about his niece if he didn’t. Klaus usually got drunk on his death-versery, but one year he was in rehab for the week. So, knowing his brother was safe and had supervision, Ben did his rounds.

Vanya was… writing. Okay. Cool. Allison has asked for a day of filming and had flown out to bring flowers to his public gravesite. There was a note too. But it was in an envelope and he couldn’t touch it and not for the first time, he wished he had Klaus there. Diego was in the middle of a match when he went to check on him. That left a selfish weight on his heart. Then there was Luther. Luther was dying.

When Ben appeared at the house, he immediately noticed how empty it was. The whole house. Then there were alarms outside. Then the rough whir of wheels and his mother’s soft voice murmuring reassurances and then-

Luther was really fucked up. His chest seemed ripped to shreds, and the edges of the gashes were blackened and burnt. His breathing was laboured and **oh god…**

**“Get that gear off him”**

He moved closer and his arm instinctively reached out for his hand. He was able to hold it. He shouldn’t be able to hold it. He grasped it tight with desperation as their father checked Luther’s pulse. The steady beeping of the heart monitor turned into one long droning.

_“You gotta pull through, you can’t go like this. Please, you can’t join me yet!”_

**“The serum”**

Ben didn’t know what Reginald meant by that but he knew it couldn’t be good. He watched in horror as their father stabbed his brother in the chest with a syringe with unknown contents. The only thought he could think was, _get off, don’t touch him I swear_ , but his fingers finally fell through his brother’s hand and he sobbed.

That moment would always haunt him.

And he could tell in the few times he had seen Luther after that event that he had spiralled. He had a new body and a deep misery practically seeped off of him. Somehow the others hadn’t noticed, and if they did, they ignored it. It stayed, all throughout the Apocalypse mess and all throughout Dallas. And it was still there now.

Yeah, Ben needed to talk to Luther.

* * *

_Slipping through my fingers all the time_   
_I try to capture every minute_   
_The feeling in it_   
_Slipping through my fingers all the time_

Music floated through the hallway, and it was no question where it was coming from. Ben could only smile. That was _their song._ He had helped Luther pick out that album, The Visitors, and that was their all-time favourite. And this was the one ABBA song he refused to let Klaus and his weird-ass cult ruin.

Ben had asked Klaus to make him corporeal. It’s important, he explained, and though he hmm-d and haa-d, Klaus was willing. It took less effort these days.

Ben rapped his knuckles against the door frame. The feeling of the wood was strange against his skin. The door didn’t open, yet the floor creaked. He was in there.

“Luther?”

The door opened slowly. It hit Ben that he couldn’t remember his brother ever looking small. He was the figurehead, the leader, the biggest and the strongest. He was the bridge between them and their father, the one they were supposed to strive to be. Strong, powerful, and most importantly, obedient. And then the figurative largeness became literal. But it had always been a front, and now Luther looked dejected and tired and smaller than he ever had.

“Sorry, I didn’t know it was you.” His voice was gravelly, probably from disuse.

“And you wouldn’t have opened the door otherwise?” Ben raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged, “Did you uh... want to come in?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Sunbeams streamed through the window, revealing glowing dust and lighting up the wooden floorboards. They hit his face and he revelled in it for a moment. He felt like a leech, sucking up any warmth he could get his hands on. He took notice of the record player once again and grabbed the sleeve.

“You still listen to this?”

Luther reached over and turned the music down. His hand darted out quickly, then returned to its spot tucked under the opposite arm. He had his gloves on, but his knuckles and fingernails showed, rough and scaled over.

“Yeah, I uh- I like it.”

“Me too.” He smiled. The song came to an end, and a new one began.

_Long awaited darkness falls_   
_Casting shadows on the walls_   
_In the twilight hour I am alone_

“You know, I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” His blasé tone didn’t distract Ben from the words themselves. He stopped in his tracks and immediately put the sleeve back down, turning his full attention to his brother.

“Why would you think that?”

His abruptness completely threw Luther off, and his eyes betrayed something other than sadness. Panic.

“I don’t know, I just figured you’d rather spend your time with the others. They missed you a lot.”

“And you didn’t?” Ben felt a surge of alarm. He had never considered that possibility. _Shit._

“No, I did!” I did it’s just that…” Ben let out a breath of relief, which quickly was sucked back in when Luther continued, “They don’t have as much of a connection to… you know.”

He didn’t know. There didn’t seem to be any reason for him to react like this. What could Luther be connected to that he wouldn’t want to-Oh. _Oh!_ **Oh shit!**

“To my death?” He asked, incredulous.

Luther bristled, tightening his grip on his arms. He just turned his attention to the record player.

”Why would you say that?”

Luther didn’t answer, he just watched the record spin as if in a trance. The answer to his question slapped Ben in the face. _There’s no way he thinks that, no way!_

“It wasn’t your fault.” He said earnestly.

Ben was horrified to hear his brother laugh. It was a sad, bitter laugh, and it clashed horrifically with the faint recollection he had. Luther had always laughed at stuff Ben had thought was really dumb. They shared many things, but not a sense of humour. But that laugh was warm and comforting. Safe. Ben couldn’t help but smile whenever he heard it. Not like this, not cold and distant.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” The laughter had turned to a smile, which faded when they made eye contact, “And I’ve never been sorrier for anything in my life.”

“But you don’t have to be. I don’t blame you, I never blamed you.”

“But at the funeral dad said, and- Diego?” Fragments of sentences spilled out of Luther’s mouth.

“Diego? Seventeen-year-old Diego told you it was your fault and you took it to heart for 13 years? I love him to death but he was a bitter, angry little shit!”

“It wasn’t just him, it was Dad and they’re right!”

“They’re not! Even if they believed it, who’s the one who actually died? I experienced it first hand and blaming you never even crossed my mind!”

“You don’t understand-“ He looked as if on the verge of tears.

“Then help me understand, I want to understand!”

“I was supposed to protect you!” And the tears fell, “I was the big brother, I was the leader, I was supposed to protect you, all of you! I failed you and I-“

Ben couldn't listen to this. It was like his body was moving in auto-pilot as he walked up to his brother and pulled him into a hug. For the second time he reminded himself of a leech, with Luther’s body heat putting his cold bones to rest for just a moment of relief. Despite a long bout of hesitation, gloved hands ended up holding him around the back and on the back of his head, nearly too tight. For a moment they were 10 years old again, hiding under the covers and making empty promises. Tears fell from his brother’s face and rolled down his jacket, still unable to soak in. He didn’t ever want to move. He was perfectly content right here.

“You didn’t. You didn’t fail me, I promise.”

Murmurs of _“I love you, I’m sorry, don’t leave me”_ were spoken above his head.

_I love you too, don’t be, I won’t._

They pulled away from the hug but their fingers quickly found each other and made up for the lost contact. Skin to skin, fingertips to knuckle bones. Ben’s hand was small in Luther’s grip, and it was cold. It struck Luther that it would always be cold. The warm, steady thrum of life that he had missed so much would never run under Ben’s skin again. But he was here, and he was here to stay. And that was better than nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> ABBA songs used are Slipping Through My Fingers and Like An Angel Passing Through My Room, which I thought were both very thematically appropriate


End file.
